


take me to the lakes

by nextstopparis



Series: honey, i love you [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, afterlife stuff u know, its not as angsty as the character death suggests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nextstopparis/pseuds/nextstopparis
Summary: Arthur didn’t have any expectations for death.
Relationships: Lancelot/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: honey, i love you [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843912
Kudos: 11





	take me to the lakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vell_ichor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vell_ichor/gifts).



> i wrote this fic a few months ago for a friend, but it's REALLY hard to find stuff on tumblr so im posting it here bc i like coming back to fics sometimes ig lksjdfksjflksj
> 
> title from taylor swift's "the lakes"

Arthur didn’t have any expectations for death. It - though always around him - had always been something he never thought too much about - perhaps consciously, perhaps not. Either way, he had always firmly believed that there was no use pondering over a thing he had no concept of, anyway. Especially not with the responsibility of Camelot that was already on his shoulders—or, used to be.

So when he closed his eyes to the sound and brush of a gentle wind, only to open them again somewhere completely quiet and still, he was wary. The place looked similar to where he’d conjured up his father so many lifetimes ago, and for the first time - Arthur actively prayed that he would never have to face his father, again.

Seconds - weeks - a millennium passed before anything really began happening.

At first there were - sounds. Buzzes or murmured words in his head. They were indistinguishable, felt - was felt the right word? - like soft wisps across his skin, tickling his ear.

Then, they became more clear the more time passed:

_Yes_ and

_Almost there_ and

_Arthur_ and

_Sire._

It was almost like reverence - a pitch and lilt he knew well; one he had tried to forget in vain. A voice he’d dreamed about and listened for every day after first hearing it; one that was more familiar shaping a goodbye, but dear all the same.

One he had missed so, so very much.

Arthur was afraid to speak; afraid to voice a hope he had no right to have. Not in this realm, anyway. He was afraid because what better Hell was there, than for him to be taken from Arthur all over again, right when he’d been given the hope of having him back?

But, how could he do anything except hope so fiercely, all the same?

“Lancelot?”

“My lord,” and - _yes_. That was him: dark hair and soft eyes, easy stance and with nothing but affection in his approach.

“Lance -” Arthur’s voice failed him halfway, but whether it was due to the lump in his throat, the extraction of air from his lungs, or Lancelot’s body colliding with his own, was anyone’s guess.

His first knight tightened his hold around Arthur’s body - perhaps that was inappropriate, though; was this a body anymore? - and murmured honeyed words into his ear: reassurances and hello’s and everything between and beyond. Arthur clutched his hips, ran his hands up Lancelot’s back and gripped his shoulders, his hair. It didn’t feel real, it -

\- everything felt hazy, as if it was suspended in time - as if there was no time - as if -

This couldn’t be a dream, could it?

No - no, it -

“What - Lancelot, where are we?”

He didn’t pull back, melting - is that what he was doing? He felt like he was turning into liquid heat in these arms - into Lancelot’s chest.

It was a comfort when Lancelot did not pull back, either.

“We’re at the lake of Avalon,” which - sounded -

“Merlin -”

“Yes. He laid you here, to rest. Did the same for me, the last time we - well.”

_The last time we saw each other_ he didn’t say. All the better, too; Arthur had no inclination to cling to the past. Lancelot was here now, back in his arms and acting like himself again. There was no reason to be discontent.

Except -

“But - the kingdom. He should have -”

“I think, perhaps, this was his last gift to you - to us, maybe,” Lancelot pulled away, which was okay because he wasn’t going anywhere this time, and cupped his face and Arthur went soft all over again, unable to believe - scarcely daring to _hope_ \- that he had this back.

“You can rest in peace here, Arthur. With -”

_With me._

And what was Arthur to do other than lean in and kiss him - again, finally - _finally_ \- after so long?

He wanted to ask _forever, right?_ because he was tired of watching Lancelot leave - of being without him after finally getting him back - of closing off his expression and pretending that he could handle it.

But it was early, still. There was no war, no angry father here. Perhaps they had forever, perhaps they didn’t, but they would have later; to talk, to figure things out. He knew they would because Lancelot looked happy, calm, and not like there was something eating away at his mind. Not like he was going to go, without Arthur.

And when Lancelot kissed his cheek, took his hand and took Arthur _with him_ to - something - whatever it was - Arthur, ironically maybe, took a breath.

_Yes_ , he thought, _peace_.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! :D


End file.
